Two Women In Lebanon, 1970s. By Diab Alkarssifi

from “sometimes i wish i felt the side effects” by Danez Smith, Poetry Magazine March 2018

Let Myrtle stay a myth

Where did I learn to mourn?

They've sworn it is the thing to do

That grief is growth

That innocence piously lost

Is the right romantic rite

Of passage to the mountain of mature .

I wonder if I never learnt to weep

With wistfulness - an unreal word

That makes mockery of me -

Worn as a worshipped curse,

Duped of its demonic reality .

I wonder if I'm possessed

By pain,

Or is this just mental blame game

Because I find myself

mourning after mourning

It has a crippling clench. Even

Clarity, though plain to see,

is barred from reach

By clouds or ghosts .

I wish — no I shouldn't —

that is the language of mourning.

Let it go

Let me go.

Come join

Mea Culpa means “through my fault" 

Thank You, @spokeart. 

pieces from Abigail Goldman’s - ‘Mea Culpa’ at Hashimoto Contemporary 

When will you realise love is right here.

My very unpopular opinion apparently:

Straight cis perisex able-bodied neurotypical people using aids designed for disabled people (I.e weighted blankets, grabby claw, sock holder, etc), going to therapists occasionally to keep up their mental health, using fidget toys, choosing to call their bf/gf their partner, using pronouns besides the ones associated with their gender just because they like it, and doing a million other small things that make us fitting in and being accepted a little bit easier is in fact exactly the type of support these communities need, and will ultimately help us so much more than gatekeeping ever fuckin will

Another sticker animation, buy the stickers here:

https://www.traceloops.com/store/labelstickers